The Forgotten Malfoy
by LongLiveInsanity1
Summary: You've read the Harry Potter books, but do you know the WHOLE story? Vespia Malfoy, twin sister to the infamous Draco Malfoy, daughter of the one and only Lucius Malfoy, begs to differ...
1. I Recieve My Hogwarts Letter

So, right now, everyone's going crazy about these _Harry Potter _books. Please.

I'm not going to disappoint you. They ARE true, but not ALL true.

I wonder how much Mum and Dad payed to delete me from the whole thing. Probably a lot, seeing as I'm the disgraced daughter and all. My oh-so-perfect idiot twin brother made the final cut, but not me. You people deserve to know the story. Here is MY version:

_I recieve my Hogwarts letter... _

It all started the day I got my letter. We were all sitting around the breakfast table, doing everything under the sun except eating. Mum kept giving Dad evils because he was reading _The Daily Prophet_ at the table AGAIN and my stupid brother was deeply immersed in the book Dad gave him for his Birthday, _1001 Ways to Cause Your Enemies Pain_. Fascinating (note the eye roll, please). Also note that Mum isn't giving _him_ evils, just bacause both my parents think he's so bloody perfect.

Anyway, I was seeing how many rude hand gestures I could make before someone noticed. I had got to 59, when the family owl swooped in and dropped about six letters onto my lap before soaring away.

"Give me the post, Vespia."

"Yes, father."

I learnt from a very young age just how much sarcasm to put on the 'father'. Never 'Dad' to his face. Never ever ever ever. Ever. Have I made my point? So, in case you ever want to annoy my Dad, it has to just enough sarcasm so that he notices, but not so much that he gets angry and starts smashing things, including my head.

I gave him the post. He took out three letters that looked extremely boring and left the room, dumping the other three letters on the table. I walked over and got them, because no one else was going to.

"There's one for you, Mother." I slid it down the table to her. "And... OH MY GOSH, HOGWARTS LETTERS!"

I started hyperventilating, which is a pretty stupid thing to do when I knew that I was going to get a letter anyway. My brother snatched one of the letters off me and read aloud.

" 'Dear Mr Malfoy, We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry-' "

Mum gave a little squeal and hugged him tightly (please note the second eye roll). I cleared my throat loudly.

"I got one too."

She released my brother and gave me an awkward pat on the back.

"Oh my goodness, this is so exciting!" she gushed.

I stared at her. I didn't know she could show this much emotion. She's normally so cold.

"We have to arrange a trip to Diagon Alley and-"

I left her to her ranting and stared down at my letter incredulously, a little ditty playing in my head:

_I'm going to Hogwarts, I'm going to Hogwarts, I'm going to Hogwarts, I'm-_

"Is it too much to ask for a little quiet?"

Dad looked from Mum to me to my brother angrily. We had clearly interrupted something important.

"Hogwarts letters," said my brother, solemly. "Look."

Dad took his letter, read it over and then gave it back.

"Wonderful," he said in a bored voice. "We can get your things next week. I'll send a reply."

He left again. Me and my brother exchanged glances.

Don't get me wrong, I really hate him, but this is one of those special family moments where all animosity is forgotten. Simultainiously, we grabbed hands and spun eachother around.

"We're Hogwarts students now," whispered my brother, happily. "Everything changes."

The moment passed. I broke away and wiped my hands on my sweater, earning myself a dirty look from Mum.

"If you'll excuse me, mother," I said, with my perfect balance of sarcasm and politeness. I strode out of the room and up the stairs to my bedroom, my mind still on my Hogwarts letter.

_Everything changes..._


	2. I See Someone Unexpected In Diagon Alley

_I meet someone unexpected at Diagon Alley..._

Exhasperated with me after a surprisingly short time, dad sent me out of Flourish and Blott's to fetch Draco from Madam Malkins, where he was getting his robes (obviously. I mean the shop is called Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions).

So, anyway, I finally reached the window of Madame Malkin's, and, rather annoyingly, found my way blocked by something very large.

Oops, my mistake, someONE very large. I stared, mouth open, for about thirty seconds before he noticed me.

"Can I 'elp yeh?"

I closed my mouth quickly. "Oh, er, nothing, I... I was just..."

I mentally shook myself. I'm not usually shy!

"I was looking for my twin brother."

I wormed my way past an enormous elbow and pressed my nose against the glass.

"Is that 'im talkin' to little Harry?"

"You mean the skinny, dark-haired one? Is that Harry?"

The man puffed out his chest importantly. "That is Harry, all righ'._ Harry Potter_."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Not much is he."

The man's forehead creased.

"Oops, sorry, was that out loud?" I laughed. "Family talent, speaking your mind."

"Yeh come from any particular family?"

"The one and only Malfoys." I made a face. "No comment."

The man's frown deepened, and for a sickening second, I thought that he was going to automatically categorize me as 'evil power hungry moron' like everyone else who hears the name 'Malfoy'. But, conveniently, we were interrupted.

"Hi Hagrid," said the one and only _Harry Potter_ gloomily. "Who's this?"

"Vespia Malfoy," I said quickly, before the giant man could give him any false accusations.

He gave a polite little cough. I rolled my eyes.

"I know, my parents have permanent brain damage when it comes to names."

He allowed himself a small smile.

"YOU, however, are the famous Harry Potter."

"Don't start," he groaned. "Everyone thinks I'm supposed to be so great, but-"

"Oh, don't worry about that. Everyone's pretty much of equal ability. You'll be fine."

"Exactly what I've been sayin' Harry," said the giant man heartily. "Come on, let's go get the rest of yer things."

I got the sneaking suspicion that he wanted to get away from me as fast as possible.

"Are you starting Hogwarts this year, then?" I asked curiously.

"Yeah." He peered more closely at me. "You know, you remind me awfully of that boy in there..."

"Don't get me started on my idiot brother, please."

"Harry, we've really got ter go."

"All right, all right." He gave me a half smile. "Well, see you around, I guess."

"Yeah, see you at Hogwarts, famous Harry Potter."

He gave another weak smile and then allowed himself to be led away.


	3. I Start A Fight On The Hogwarts Express

_I start a fight on the Hogwarts Express_

The goodbye was brief. I think that mum and dad were glad to get rid of us, to be honest. Obviously, my brother got a hug and a present, but it was probably a skull or something, so I didn't really care.

The minute we got on the train, we separated. I went one way, and my brother went another.

Good riddance, I thought, as I searched the train for an empty compartment.

I found one near the end of the train and collapsed into a seat. The butterflies in my stomach were annoying me. It's not like there was anything to be scared of!

"Can I sit here?"

I looked up.

"Vespia?!"

"Harry!"

I leapt up and greeted him like an old friend. That was when I spotted two freckly, curious faces behind him, carrying his trunk.

"Who's this?" asked one.

"Doesn't matter," I said, quickly. I had a funny feeling that I knew who these people were.

"Of course it matters," said Harry. "This is-"

"Vespia," I said, quickly. "Just Vespia."

Harry gave me an odd look but then shrugged and let the twins load his trunk onto the luggage rack.

"Wait a minute," said one, peering at Harry. "You're Harry Potter!"

"Oh my god!" said the other, looking over his twin's shoulder.

Harry went a little red.

"Well... um...."

"Fred!" screeched a woman standing on the platform. "George!"

"Bye then," said the twins in awe. They turned and left the compartment.

"So," said Harry, slyly, "just Vespia..."

"It's not funny," I said, sadly. "Weasleys and Malfoys don't mix."

I absent-mindedly closed the window, blocking out the twin's mother in mid-rant.

"Were they Weasleys, then?"

I looked into Harry's innocent, slightly confused face, and I knew that he was pretty clueless when it came to wizarding family feuds.

With a jolt, the train began to move. We were both thrown backwards onto our seats and there was a moment of awkward silence between us. It was broken by the arrival of ANOTHER red-head.

"Anyone sitting there," he asked, a little shyly, nodding towards one of the empty seats.

Rolling my eyes, I shuffled down a bit and the boy plopped beside me, staring at Harry.

The compartment door slid open and the twins came in.

"Hi, Ron," they said in unison. "Hi, Harry. Hi, Just Vespia."

They looked at Harry. "We're Fred and George Weasley, by the way."

And, with that, they left.

There was another awkward silence.

"Are you really Harry Potter?" the boy blurted out.

Harry looked a little surprised, but nodded.

"Wow." His eyes raked Harry's hairline. Harry, noticing where he was staring, swept back his fringe to reveal thin scar like a bolt of lightning.

The Weasley boy and I instinctively leant forward, our eyes wide. The boy seemed to spot me for the first time.

"And who are you?" he said, a little rudely.

"Vespia."

He had a violent sneezing fit. My eyes narrowed.

"It's not that funny. It's not that much worse than_ Weasley_. _Weasel _Weasley."

"Watch it," he snarled, his ears going red.

"Don't pick a fight with me, _Weasel_," I said, coolly. "You won't be able to afford the hospital bills."

"Say that again!" he yelled, standing up.

"SHUT UP!"

We both whipped around. Harry was on his feet too. He looked from me to Weasley accusingly.

"Stop shouting at each other."

We all slowly sat back down again, me Weasley as far away from each other ass possible.

"So," said Harry, making forced conversation. "Tell me about yourself."

Sure, it was a cheesy conversation starter, but it worked quite well. We talked all the way out of London. We got food. We talked some more. Weasley and I never spoke directly to each other, but Harry doctored it so that we never had to.

We had nearly finished all the food, and were feeling a bit tired, when a pathetic looking boy shuffled sadly into our compartment.

"Sorry," he sniffled, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

"Nope," said Ron, reading a chocolate frog card.

The boy burst into a very noisy bout of tears, and Harry led him gently outside.

When he came back in, Ron said, "Dunno why he's so bothered. Toads are ugly."

I gave a polite cough, inclining my head slightly towards the little furball with legs that was Weasley's rat, Scabbers.

"Oi," said Weasley, defensively. "Don't insult Scabbers."

"Oh, sorry," I said in mock surprise, "is that Scabbers? I thought it was a clod of earth."

Weasley whipped out his wand (big mistake) and I drew mine too, ready for a fight. The only advantage of being a Malfoy is that you get taught a lot of very nasty curses around the age of three.

The door opened again before we could start duelling, and a bushy haired girl bustled in, and with her was the pathetic toadless boy we'd seen earlier.

"Has anyone seen a toad?" she said, bossily. "Neville's lost one."

Before anyone could reply, she caught sight of the drawn wands and frowned.

"You're not fighting, are you?" she said, disapprovingly.

"Of course not," I said, sarcastically. "We were just discussing the effect of the International Confederation of Warlocks Convention of 1578."

"Ooooh!" the girl squealed, sitting down next to a very bewildered Harry. "I've read about that. Why do you think that the primitive justice system allowed such a biased chairwizard to do the court ruling when-"

"She was joking," said Weasley exasperatedly. "So shut up."

The girl closed her mouth. She looked a little hurt.

"Well," she said, with as much dignity as she could muster, "if you do see a toad..."

She grabbed the boy and together they left us in peace.

"Right," I said, in mock thoughtfulness, "where were we? Ah yes, I was about to curse your arms off..."

Sadly, I didn't get to curse his arms off, because at that moment we were interrupted by...

"_Draco_?!"

"_Vespia_?!"

"What are you doing here?" we said together. My brother's eyes narrowed.

"I was looking for Harry Potter, but-"

"Oh, you mean my friend here?" I asked, putting a ridiculous amount of emphasis on the word friend and clamping Harry to my side.

My brother stood frozen in shock for a moment, but quickly recovered.

"You must be Harry Potter. I'm Vespia's twin brother, Draco Malfoy."

Weasley had another sneezing fit.

"Yeah, because Ronald Weasley is the most normal name in the universe," I snarled, pointing my wand at him again. Before I could cause him a lot of pain, I felt a hand close around my wrist.

"I've got this, Vespia," said Draco with an infuriating smirk. "It's sweet of you to try, but..."

He snapped his fingers and two hulking monsters shuffled into the compartment.

I could tell straight away that they weren't exactly the smartest eleven year olds that I was likely to meet. Maybe it was the fact that one of them was drooling slightly.

Clever or not, they both took up a lot of room, and were looking at my brother for instructions.

"Sweet of you to try, Draco," I said icily, "But your minions won't be much use. I'm cursing Weasley, and that's-"

I gasped as someone rugby tackled me from behind. My brother laughed derisively, joined by the two brutes that were stupid enough to follow him.

Neither Draco, nor Weasley, who had tackled me, knew what they had taken on.

I kicked Weasley hard, and I think I broke his nose. I then leapt up and punched my brother square in the mouth. His 'friends', immediately made to grab me, but I dodged them and then leapt on top of my brother, who was trying to crawl away, pinning him to the ground.

"Don't you remember?" I said sweetly. "I _always_ win the fights."

I couldn't taunt him any further though, because at exactly the same time, Weasley and one of the muscle men tried to pull me off, and I went flying into one of the seats, positively flattening poor Harry.

"What's going on her?" said the bossy girl, who this time wasn't dragging the boy with her. "Are you... fighting?"

I saw her back out of the compartment.

"I'm telling a responsible adult!"

"Oh no you don't!" I yelled, flinging myself after her, with Weasley hot on my heels. We grabbed her and pinned her, whimpering, to a wall.

"Right, Little Miss Tell-tale," I said fiercely. "If-"

"_What on earth is going on here_?!"

"Oh great," I said quietly, as a prefect who looked suspiciously like one of the Weasleys strode towards us. "More red-heads."


	4. I Make The Biggest Mistake Of My Life

_I make the biggest mistake of my life__**  
**_  
"_I simply cannot believe it! Fighting on your first day! Ron, I've never been so ashamed! What's this girl ever done to you? How could you do this to me? Tarnishing the Weasley family reputation! I had hoped you wouldn't be like Fred and George! I'm writing to mum and that's final!_"

He turned and stalked away without even glancing at me, let alone telling me off. Weasley was now positively foaming at the mouth, but the annoying girl was looking irritatingly smug.

"He's right you know," she said in a self-satisfied tone.

Ron told her just where to get off in a particularly colourful way.

"Fine," she said, suddenly all huffy. She stalked away, muttering darkly.

"And the same to you, Malfoy," he snarled.

"Charming," I said, coldly. I reached inside the compartment and grabbed my brother.

"Come on, Draco," I said in a very dignified way. "We're not wanted here."

My brother opened his mouth, doubtless to come up with some incredibly witty retort, but I just ignored him and marched off down the corridor, the huge idiots following close behind.

"Where's your compartment?" I asked, confused, as we reached the very last, full to bursting compartment in the train. He wrestled himself free and glared at me.

"At the _other_ end of the train."

By the time we got there, it was already pretty dark. I slid the door open and marched confidently in (or, as confidently as you can be while dragging the trunk that you were forced to side-track and go and retrieve).

"Draco," whined a rather unfortunate looking girl, with a squashed face, "where have you been? And," she wrinkled her nose, "who's this."

"This is my sister," he said grimly, sitting down and grabbing the last chocolate frog.

"Sister?" said a haughty looking boy who was obviously very full of himself.

"You got a problem with that?" I said, changing quickly into my robes as the train began to slow down.

He looked me up and down, reminding me that I was half dressed.

"Zabini, you pervert," said my brother, giving him a good kick. "Close your eyes!"

Reluctantly, he covered his eyes with his hands until I was completely changed, and the train was just coming to a stop.

"Come on, Draco," simpered the ugly girl, grabbing his hand and leading him out of the compartment.

The thick-skulled, brain-dead minions lumbered after them, leaving me and Zabini alone.

He was still looking me up and down with an unpleasant look on his face. I cleared my throat nervously.

"We need to go."

I turned away and hurried out of the compartment, following the crowds out of the train and onto the platform.

"Firs' years! Over 'ere!"

I immediately recognised the giant of a man that had accompanied Harry to Diagon Alley, and tried to stay out of his eyeline as he took us down the platform and down a little narrow path.

I yelled embarrassingly loudly as I tripped over a loud rock. One foot hit solid ground, but the other kept going. There was some kind of slope, and I was slipping...

Someone grabbed my hand and heaved me upwards. Brushing myself down, shaking slightly, I murmured my thanks.

"Any time."

I knew that voice! I looked up into the smug face of Zabini, who was still smiling in a very odd way.

I automatically stumbled backwards, and stupidly crashed into someone else.

"Vespia! There you are!"

Harry held my shoulders to steady me and I quickly fell into step beside him.

"Yeh'll get yer fir' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," the giant shouted, just as we turned a corner.

There were a lot of gasps and ooohs as the great castle came into view, towering above us on a mountain top.

I was so busy staring at the castle that I wasn't looking where I was going. With a SPLASH, I slipped on a wet pebble and slid downwards into the freezing lake.

"Are you always this clumsy?" Harry laughed, pulling me to my feet.

"Of course not," I said in mock offense. "What do you take me for?"

"No more'n four to a boat!" the giant called, gesturing to a load of little rowing boats bobbing on the water.

"Coming?" Harry asked, as Ron waved excitedly from the boat he was saving.

I laughed nastily. "Me? Weasley? You've GOT to be kidding!"

I marched away to a boat with only one person in it and sat behind them without a backwards glance at Harry.

_He's got to choose_, I thought fiercely._ It's me or Weasley_.

"Hey!"

In my anger, I had accidentally thumped the boy in front of me, knocking him off his little perch.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," I said, helping him back onto the seat. "I'm Vespia Malfoy, by the way."

"Theodore Nott," he said stiffly, turning to face the front as the giant yelled, "FORWARD!" and the boats began to glide slowly through the water.

The castle loomed nearer and nearer until it was almost on top of us, and the giant shouted "Heads down!"

I hastily flattened myself against the bottom of the boat as we passed through a tiny opening in the cliff face and down a dark tunnel.

There was a small bump as the boats hit a sort of harbour, and we all clambered out of our boats. I saw Harry give me an apologetic glance from where he stood with Weasley, but I ignored him.

Several girls screamed as a toad hopped out of one of the boats and onto the hard rock floor.

"Trevor!" said the boy called Neville blissfully, scooping up his beloved toad. The giant chuckled and then strode off, with all of us trotting after him, sometimes breaking into a run to keep up.

"Everyone here?" he called as we emerged onto smooth damp grass just outside the doors to Hogwarts. "Righ' then!"

He knocked smartly on the castle door, which swung open at once to reveal a stern looking witch with her black hair scraped back off her face in a tight bun.

"Ah, all's well and good," she said briskly. "I'll take them from here Hagrid."

So that's his name, I thought, as Hagrid blundered away into the darkness.

The woman took as through into an enormous Entrance Hall and then through into a small side chamber.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she said, a little louder than was necessary, for everyone was too nervous to talk. "My name is Professor McGonagall, I am the deputy headmistress here, and I will shortly take you through into the Great Hall for the start of term feast. However, before you take your seats, you must be sorted into one of the four houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw or Slytherin."

I noticed the slightly disapproving way she said 'Slytherin' and concluded that she must have been a Gryffindor when she went to Hogwarts.

"Each house has produced outstanding witches and wizards; none are better than the others. During your stay at Hogwarts, you will gain or lose house points according to your conduct, standard of work and regard for rules. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup. Please wait here. I will return when we are ready for you." She looked around at us sceptically and her nostrils flared slightly. "I suggest you smarten yourselves up."

She turned and marched out, leaving us all shivering in our thin cloaks.

"I wonder how we get sorted?" asked a girl standing next to me nervously. Her friend simply shook her head, afraid to speak.

I felt an overwhelming sense of superiority. _I_ knew how we were sorted.

But I had my fair share of things to be puzzling over. What house was I going to be in?

_Well_, I mused, _what would annoy Mum and Dad most? _  
_  
Hufflepuff_, I thought automatically.

_You?_ said the nagging little voice in the back of my head. _Hufflepuff? You're not exactly the loyal type. _  
_  
Ravenclaw then_, I thought stubbonly.

_You're not really the smartest person in the world either_, the annoying little voice said.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the thoughts I was about to think.

_Gryffindor?  
_  
_There is no way THAT is happening_, the little voice persisted._ Not if you want to live past twelve. However, there is one more option... _

I sighed inwardly._ Slytherin. _

"New students!" someone boomed, making me jump.

I hadn't even seen the ghosts come in, I was so immersed in my own dilemma. And yet, there they were. The one who had spoken was a fat little monk with a ridiculous smile on his face.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff," he said jovially. "My old house, you know."

"Move along now," snapped Professor McGonagall, who had appeared as suddenly as the ghosts. "The Sorting is about to start."

As we shuffled along into the Great Hall, I barely noticed the wonders (enchanted ceiling, floating candles etc.) because I was still mulling over what house I thought I would be in. I was positive that the Sorting Hat would let me tell it where to be put.

_Gryffindor is a bit TOO risky_, I thought._ But, then again, it would be good... It COULD happen... _

I stuffed my fingers in my ears to block out the out of tuneless wailing of the Sorting Hat.

_Hufflepuff's not going to happen. But it might if I ask nicely... Ravenclaw... Well, I am quite clever... _

I saw Professor McGonagall get out a roll of parchment.

_Slytherin... I could be a GOOD Slytherin, that would annoy everyone... But then again... _

You get the basic gist. There were always two sides, whichever angle I looked at it.

"Malfoy, Draco!"

My brother stepped forward and lowered the hat onto his head.

"SLYTHERIN!"

He went to sit down with his minions, looking pleased with himself.

_Well, duh_, I thought to myself.

"Malfoy, Vespia!"

I took a step forward but hesitated on the edge of the crowd.

I looked up at the Sorting Hat, and suddenly, I had made my decision.

"I know what house I'm going to be in," I whispered as I placed the Hat on my head. It chuckled in my ear.

_It's nice when people make my job easier. Let's see... Oh. That's interesting... But you seem decided, so...  
_  
"SLYTHERIN!"


	5. I Realise I Have Made The Biggest

_I realize that I have made the biggest mistake of my life_

You know that feeling you get when a rollercoaster has just started to move off? Or when you're feet have just left a 10m diving board? That feeling when you realize you can't go back, and you suddenly REALLY want to?

That's exactly how I felt.

But I'm not stupid. I knew it was over. As I went to sit down, I saw Weasley, looking even more satisfied than usual, whisper something in Harry's ear. I would dearly have liked to have punched him in the face, but instead I kept walking towards the Slytherin table with my head held high.

"You're a Slytherin," said my brother in surprise as I sat down next to him.

"Well spotted," I said loftily.

"Father'll be... _happy_."

"What a revelation."

He stared at me. "You actually don't care, do you?"

"I'm offended, dear brother," I said calmly. "You think all my decisions in life are based on what will annoy mum and dad most?"

"Well..."

"Actually," I said quickly, "don't answer that."

"Potter, Harry!"

I saw him move slowly up the stairs. He looked at me, and then at Weasley. Then he looked at me again.  
_  
It's me or Weasley..._

The hat was put on his head and it fell down over his eyes, concealing his face. There was an elongated pause. I held my breath.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

I froze.

_No... Not happening..._

"I knew it," my brother whispered. "I just knew it. Idiot."  
_  
I wasn't supposed to be here... I wasn't a Slytherin..._

I got up suddenly and made my way to the opposite end of the table, as far away from my brother and his gang as possible.

"OUCH!"

Several people turned to stare.

"Oh my gosh," I said, as Theodore Nott rubbed his throbbing foot, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to step on-"

"Oi," hissed a grim-looking seventh year, "sit down!"

I squeezed in beside Nott, who was still glaring reproachfully at me.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered to him as Weasley went to join Harry at the Gryffindor table, looking ever so slightly smug. "I'm such an idiot."

"Yeah, you are," said Nott rudely, burying his nose in a book that he had concealed under the table.

_Well, there goes one potential friendship_, I thought, turning away from him.

"Budge up a bit."

Oh no. Hadn't I suffered enough?

"Sorry," I said to Zabini. "No room."

Zabini rolled his eyes.

"Of course there is." He indicated the fact that I had shifted so that I was covering two seats.

Theodore looked up and rephrased my previous statement slightly, using language that I wouldn't have expected of a scrawny little thing like him. Zabini's eyes narrowed.

"Whatever, Nott. I wouldn't want to sit with a loser like you anyway."

He stalked off.

Up at the staff table, Professor Dumbledore got to his feet.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts!" he said cheerily. "Before we eat, I have a few words to say. They are as follows: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

He sat down again. There was a lot of laughing, and gasping in the case of the Muggle-borns who had never see food appear out of mid-air, and a babble of chatter broke out.

I caught Harry looking at me and felt a little twinge of guilt. Why did I have to be a Slytherin? I'm so stupid...

"Not eating then?" said Nott disapprovingly, grabbing a chicken wing.

"Just having a minute to myself," I said in a practised tone of superiority, ladling stew onto my plate.

There was an explosion of laughter at my brother's end of the table that we both ignored.

"Brainless morons," said Nott matter-of-factly.

"Mmm," I said vaguely. They did look like they were having fun...

I mentally slapped myself. I couldn't be a member of the Let's-all-worship-Draco-Malfoy-society!

"Dumbledore's not much better," continued Nott, stabbing fiercely at a sausage with his fork.

"No," I said, now staring at the Gryffindor table. They were having fun too...

"I hate this place," said Nott savagely. "I wanted to go to Beauxbatons instead."

"Oh?" I said, trying to make it clear that I couldn't care less.

"But my father heard that Lucius Malfoy's son was going here, so..."

He scowled and took a sip of pumpkin juice.

"Right." I said, not registering what he had actually said. I still hadn't touched my food.

"Wait a minute," he looked at me. "What did you say your name was again?"

"Yeah," I said, still not really listening.

"Name?!" he practically shouted.

"Oh, right. Er... Vespia Malfoy."

He looked at me curiously. "So… you have a brother called...?"

"Draco Malfoy," I said with contempt.

"Really?" he said in disbelief. "Wow, small world!"

I snorted. That expression sounded so odd when he used it. 'Small world'. Ha!

"I'm sorry," he said coolly. "Did I say something funny?"

"No, do go on," I said dryly. "I find your tale absolutely enthralling."

He gave a thin lipped smile before continuing.

"I'm supposed to get really friendly with Draco Malfoy so that my father can seal a huge business deal with his father. Your father."

I snorted again. "_Yeah. _That'll work."

We instinctively looked down the table to where my brother was telling another hilarious story, and, to my amusement, trying to ignore the dirty great ghost that was pratically sitting in his lap.

"Yeah," said Nott, scowling again. "I didn't think much of the operation either."

We ate in silence a bit. A bit of friendly chatting had done me the world of good, and food now seemed an appetizing option. I was ignoring Harry and, judging by the secret glances I was secretly stealing at him, he was ignoring me too.

The stew wasn't bad, and, come pudding, the trifle was rather nice too. Not a patch on Dobby's cooking, but reasonable.

When the last of the food had disappeared from the golden plates, most people looked up at the staff table again. Dumbledore stood up.

"A few start-of-term notices now that we are all fed and watered," he said in a very clear voice. "First years should know that the forest in the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And perhaps a few of our older students should bear that in mind as well." His eyes lingered on the Gryffindor table.

"Secondly, Mr Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to remind you all that no magic is permitted in the corridors between classes at any time." This time, he looked particularly at the Slytherins.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term, and anyone interested in playing should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must warn you that this year, the third floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

There was a ripple of nervous laughter, quelled almost instantly by the grave expressions on all of the teachers' faces.

"Now," said Dumbledore, brightening in an instant, "before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!"

There were a lot of quiet groans on our table in particular. The teachers didn't look very happy either. Ignoring them, Dumbledore flicked his wand and a long stream of golden ribbon flew out of it, twisting itself into words.

"Everyone pick their favourite tune," yelled Dumbledore, "and off we go!"

It was awful. Pure torture. Despite the fact that only about two Slytherins were actually singing, it was as though someone was shouting nonsense right in your ear. I saw one teacher put a pair of pink fluffy earmuffs over her flyaway hair.

Everyone finished the song at different times. The Weasley twins were singing it to a stupidly slow funeral march, so they were the last. Dumbledore conducted them personally.

"Ah, music," he said blissfully. "The greatest magic of all..."

He lapsed into a thoughtful silence.

"Ah, well," he said finally. "Time for bed. Off you trot!"


	6. I Fail To Live Up To Snape's Expectation

_**I fail to live up to Professor Snape's expectations.**_

I'd never really liked Snape. I'd seen him at home a few times, and, before the age of four, he used to always make me cry. So, naturally, I wasn't looking forward to Potions with an absolute passion. The trouble with your teachers being family friends is that they can convey more than exam results to your parents...

Almost everything vaguely Slytherin related was below ground level. Snape was our head of house, so Potions was in another stinking dungeon.

The minute I walked in, I knew I had a decision to make. This was the first lesson that I had with Harry and his fellow Gryffindors. So whom did I sit with?

I had four options. Number one, sit next to either Crabbe or Goyle (and, frankly, there wasn't really much difference between them). Upside, I can copy what my brother is doing if my potion catches fire (which I highly suspected it would). Downside, actually having to come within a metre of Crabbe/Goyle. Enough said.

Number two, I could sit next to Pansy Parkinson and her gang. Upside, I'd be sitting with 'my lot', and I'd look popular and included. Downside, Pansy hates me. I hate her. It's that simple.

Number three, I could carelessly toss my bag to the floor and sink casually into the chair opposite Harry with practised elegance, staring him straight in the eye and causing him to ditch Weasley on the spot. Upside, I (you're sworn to secrecy) kind of... like him. In an odd way. He's cute. Not _boyfriend_ cute (I can't believe that thought even popped into my head!) but sweet and funny and nice to hang out with. Downside, Gryfindors. There is no way I can sit with all of them without any kind of bloodshed, and I don't like getting my hands dirty. I could wind up at the end of the Potions lesson minus one head.

Option number four. I could sit on my own. Upside, no one to bother me. No one to laugh at me if I got it slightly wrong. No one to have to pretend to like. No one to try and avoid being killed by. Downside...

I sat on my own.

Snape swept in like the overgrown bat that he is and peered down his hooked nose at us with an expression of distaste. Sneering he picked up the register and began to call out our names. Well, I say 'call'. In actual fact, he said each one in barely more than a whisper, but we heard all right. Whether his reputation had fallen upon our ears, spread by malevolent fifth years taking out O. angst or whether we had just sensed his nasty aura did not matter. There was not even the faintest hiss of talking from even the bravest of Gryffindors.

His registration technique was 'McGonagall-style', that is to say, second name first. When he reached Harry, his eyes narrowed.

"Mr Potter," he breathed dangerously, locking eyes with Harry. "Our new... _celebrity_."

My brother sniggered sycophantically.

One Christmas, during an 'adults only' dinner, the children (Draco, Lillith, Marcus, Laria, Krisius and I) were sent upstairs to Draco's room (which was bigger than mine by exactly 6 square metres, even though I'm two minutes older) to play Wizard Truth or Dare.

From what I've gathered, Wizard Truth or Dare is pretty similar to Muggle Truth or Dare, save for the veritaserum.

Of course, not all Wizard Truth or Dare can have veritaserum. It's a 'limited' substance. Effectively banned by the Ministry, save for 'special' circumstances. Only the 'Dark Arts Kids' (yes, that is the name of our 'club', no I didn't come up with it) have access to it for their own enjoyment. So, in our games, apart from the veritaserum, it's the same game. The twist is that no one takes truths because they are afraid of what the veritaserum might reveal. So the cowards are the ones who pick the dares. More than five dares on a row and you forfeit.

I had been asked_ the question_ ('Truth or Dare?'). I had to choose truth, or I'd forfeit. But it was my brother asking. I chose dare.

The forfeit was to eavesdrop outside the dining room door for fifteen minutes. And you'd be surprised how much I'd learnt. Mainly, that Severus Snape (in the most understated way of putting it possible) didn't like James Potter.

I felt a stab of pity for Harry. Snape was a real menace. But it was instantly quelled by Weasleys stage whisper of "Don't worry, Harry, I heard Snape's tough on everyone." I gritted my teeth and turned to face the front. Snape straightened his parchment and read on.

"You have been thrust into my care," he said softly when he had vanished the register with a flick of his wand, "so that I may attempt to teach you the subtle science and exact art that is potion-making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, I suspect many of you will hardly believe this is magic." his eyes lingered on the Gryffindors. "I don't expect that the majority of you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes. The entrancing delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses..." It seemed to me that he was a little overcome with his hallucinations of gorgeous cauldrons full of incredible potions. They were obviously more attractive to him than any woman could ever be. Personally, I suspected that he was on drugs.

"I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory..." he continued, his voice raising slightly, giving an overall effect of, I thought, melodrama. "...Even stopper death. That is, if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach..."

Was it my imagination, or did he look particularly at me and Draco? As if to say, 'Be good at Potions... Or else'?

"Potter!" he suddenly snapped, as though the name tasted unpleasant in his mouth. The bottom dropped out of my stomach.

_Please_, I silently begged, _don't pick on him, not in the first lesson._

"What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

My muscles unclenched. That was _easy_. Everyone knew that. Well, with the possible exception of Crabbe and Goyle, that is.

I looked round him expectantly. The knot in my stomach appeared again. All of the Gryffindors save the annoying bushy-haired girl looked utterly clueless, Harry and Weasley most of all.

"I... I don't know," Harry whispered guiltily, like a child that's caught talking in class and cannot repeat what the teacher just said when asked. "Sir," he added hastily.

Snape gave a triumphant sneer, obviously confident that the son of his worst enemy was a complete dunce. "Tut, tut - fame clearly isn't everything." He ignored Granger, who was on the edge of her seat flapping her arm around.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

_Oh, come on,_ I thought, looking at Harry's nervous face._ You've got to know this._

There was a pregnant pause. The majority of the Slytherins where now trying to hold back their laughter.

"I don't know, sir," he mumbled finally.

My heart sank. Snape's smirk widened.

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming to Hogwarts, Potter?" he asked. Granger was positively wetting herself, she was so eager for him to ask her for the answer.

"Third time lucky, eh, Potter? What is the difference between monkswood and wolfsbane?"

Granger stood up and began hopping on the balls of her feet. I hardly blamed her. These sort of questions were covered in the first chapter of _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi._

"I don't know sir," said Harry in a defeated voice. He paused, then added, "But I think Hermione does. Why don't you ask her?"

The Gryffindors all laughed appreciatively. Weasley patted Harry on the back. Snape's face darkened.

"Sit down you silly girl!" he spat. Granger sank back into her seat, looking disappointed. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death." Harry continued to look blank. The name of the potion obviously meant nothing to him. "A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat. It will save you from most poisons." 'And if you don't improve, you may need such an antidote', was implied. "As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite."

He glared at the rest of us. "Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

I dived into my bag and shuffled around the layer of junk at the bottom in a vain attempt to find a quill. By the time I had retrieved a rather limp looking eagle feather one, the rest of the class had finished and was looking at Snape for instructions.

Still glaring at Harry, he tapped the blackboard with his wand, and on it appeared the instructions for a potion to cure boils.

"You have until the end of the lesson," he said, sitting down at his desk and gathering up a pile of marking. "Start!"

_I can do this... I can do this..._

I stared at the instructions, and then at my pile of ingredients.

_Um..._

Two tables in front of me, my brother was instructing Goyle on what potion ingredients to fetch him from the store-cupboard, but, much to my vexation, I couldn't hear him. I continued to look listlessly at my pile of ingredients, with the little hand written labels written by me returning my gaze. One of the phials was helpfully labelled 'gloop'. Another, 'stuff'.

"Is there a problem, Miss Malfoy?"

I jumped and knocked over a bottle of 'something icky'.

"No, sir," I stammered. He frowned, but nonetheless returned to his marking.

I picked up some 'this is just too disgusting for words'. Was it just me, or did it bare a SLIGHT resemblance to frog-spawn?

I sighed. Only one way to find out.

I had just poured in my third ingredient with my eyes screwed shut, when a loud bang slightly to my left made me scream loudly.

It was alright. It was just Longbottom. Somehow, I have no idea how, he had managed to melt the sturdy cauldron bottom and thick, viscous potion was oozing out onto the floor, burning holes in his shoes as it went.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. The rest of the class gingerly stepped down from the safety of the tables. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Sniffing pathetically, Longbottom was led out of the dungeon by his shell-shocked neighbour, who also had holes in his shoes.

Quite unexpectedly, he rounded on Harry.

"You—Potter—why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you?"

Harry frowned, as if trying to figure out Snape's peculiar logic, but said nothing.

Snape gave him another malicious glare. "Let's see, the cheek earlier in the lesson, deliberately disrupting class... I'd say two points from Gryffindor, wouldn't you?"

Weasley's mouth opened and shut like a goldfish. He looked so funny that I completely forgot how unfair Snape was being.

"And you, Miss Malfoy," he snapped, turning to me. "That potion is pathetic. I expected better of you. I want you to be fully improved by next lesson. I'm sure your brother can instruct you, seeing as he is such an apt potions maker."

Draco smirked at me.

"Class dismissed!"


	7. I Recieve Unique Private Tuition

_**I receive a very unique kind of private tuition**_

"Now, do you know what this is?"

"It's a cauldron, Draco."

"Very good," said my brother with a superior smirk. "We're getting somewhere. Now..."

He picked up one of my jars of ingredients and compared it with his own.

"Yeah, this is a horned slug. Change the label."

He peeled off my unhelpful one and gave me a fresh one. I sighed heavily and printed 'horned slug' in large letters.

"Happy now," I said sourly, passing it back to him.

"Just because I'm better at Potions than you are-"

"Oh yeah, and that's going to help you in the real world. Face it, Draco, Potions is a stupid subject. Not like Charms-"

"Oh, come on, Vespia, Charms is just waving your wand around in circles and shouting nonsense, it doesn't take any particular SKILL-"

"Just because I grasped that spell faster than you there's no need to condemn the subject as useless-"

"Look, I'm trying to save you from the imminent dangers of being rubbish at Potions-"

"Well, you're not exactly the best teacher I've ever had-"

"-or else father'll kill you!" he finished loudly. There was an awkward silence.

I lowered myself slowly back into my chair.

"Fine," I said huffily. "Teach me."

He glared at me for a few seconds and then glanced at the large stack of my ingredient jars.

"Tell you what," he said, "why don't we forget the labels and just go straight on to actually making something?"

"Excellent idea, sir," I said innocently.

"Shut up. So..." He flicked through the potions textbook he had borrowed from Snape. "How about this one?" He turned the book around and pointed to an immensely complex-looking set of instructions. "It looks simple enough."

I continued to look blankly at the page. Draco sighed deeply.

"Look, I'll even set out the correct ingredients for you. All YOU have to do is follow the instructions."

I shrugged nonchalantly and sat back in my chair with my arms folded, making it clear that I was going to be deliberately 'difficult'. Draco skimmed the instructions and set out the correct ingredients in front of me.

"You have half an hour," he said, doing a scarily accurate impression of Snape. "Start!"

_Ok... Let's see... _

'Stoke the fire until it gives off a steady heat.'

_Stoke the fire? With what? _

I prodded the flames gingerly with my wand. They hissed slightly and went out. The corners of Draco's mouth twitched.

_Oh, it can't be that important. I'll come back to it later. _

'Next cut open the Amathon bud and collect the black juice that flows out.'

_Amathon bud? What on EARTH is an Amathon bud? _

I picked up something that looked vaguely bud-like and slashed it open. Orange pus oozed slowly out.

_It's better than nothing._

I scooped it up and poured it into my cauldron. The liquid inside gave off a belching sound and turned sludge brown.

'The potion should now be a delicate shade of blue.'

_Oops. _

I pressed on.

'Press the flat edge of your knife to the skin of the sabre-toothed rabbit and collect the greying liquid that seeps out.'

_That's easy, there's only one thing here that could possibly be the skin of a sabre-toothed rabbit. _

I reached over a paper-like substance criss-crossed with little red lines and pulled a thick, furry skin towards me. Tongue between my teeth, I pressed hard with my blade. It made a strange popping sound and emitted a foul-smelling gas.

_Oh well. I'll just put the whole skin in. _

I dropped the skin into the cauldron in disgust. My potion bubbled weakly and turned a slightly darker brown. I could tell that Draco was struggling with the urge to laugh nastily, but I ignored him and returned to the instructions.

'Add a dash of liquidised Kappa brains.'

_Ew_

I looked at my selection of ingredients.

_Kappa brains… They would be… Pink?_

I lifted a phial of sickly green fluid to eye-level.

_Or it could be green…_

I tried to delicately drip a little of the fluid into my solution, but my hand tilted too far and the entire contents spilled in. Draco, who had previously remained silently amused at my efforts, suddenly burst out "No! Don't-"

The potion exploded. I got a faceful of brown sludge that tingled where it touched my bare skin. Draco spat out a mouthful of the stuff in disgust.

"-add that," he finished.


	8. I Prove Which Sibling Can Fly Better

_**I prove which sibling can fly better**_

Somehow or other, I managed to get through the first few days. Admittedly, they were a mangled blur of getting shouted at in Potions, sleeping in History of Magic (who doesn't?), wanting to sleep in Transfiguration and excelling still further in Charms. Mum wrote to Draco to check if he was all right (we'd only been away two days!), but she obviously couldn't care less about me. I was mentioned in the post script, but only because she hoped I was behaving myself. He'd already got two packets of sweets from home, but I wasn't really expecting anything from my dear loving parents anyway.

When we found out about flying lessons with the Gryffindors, I have to admit that I felt the tiniest bit smug. Draco simply couldn't resist telling all his little friends about how much better at flying he was than me, but I could see from the glances he kept giving me on the way down to the grounds that he hadn't forgotten who the better flier was.

The Gryffindors arrived a few minutes after we did. All the Slytherins were examining the school brooms in disgust. They weren't exactly Comets, but I'm not choosy. I was happy to see that Pansy Parkinson was looking a little green. From what little I had gathered, she didn't particularly enjoy being in the air.

"Hey."

I looked up in surprise. It was Harry, with Weasley glaring contemptuously over his shoulder at me.

I managed a small smile, secretly glad that he had broken the silence between us.

I opened my mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the arrival of our beady-eyed teacher, Madam Hooch, who began barking instructions. Everyone stood by a broom at her command.

"Stick your right hand over the broom and say up!" she shouted over us all.

"UP!" we all shouted obediently.

My broom flew straight into my outstrectched hand, and next to me, Harry's did likewise. Draco's obeyed his command as well, but, I was pleased to see, not nearly as quickly or sharply as either Harry's or mine. For the others around us, it took an almost stupidly long time, but, finally, everyone had a battered broom in their hands.

Madam Hooch stalked up and down the ranks like a drill sergeant, teaching how to mount the brooms, and how to grip them correctly. I couldn't help but feel self-satisfied when she told Draco what I'd been telling him for years: his left hand should grip the top of the broom and his right shouldn't be so far down. She stopped by me, and told everyone to look at how perfectly I was holding the broom. Draco made a face.

"Now," Madam Hooch said, returning to the front, "when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly." She placed her whistle to her lips. "On my whistle! Three... Two..."

With a gasp, Neville Longbottom, overeager or, more probably, just plain scared, shot upwards like a rocket. Rather stupidly, Madam Hooch yelled, "Come back, boy!"

Obedient to Madam Hooch's wishes, Longbottom slipped sideways off the broom and plummeted to the ground, landing in a crumpled heap at her feet.

She picked him up quickly, analysed the damaged and turned to the rest of us.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! If I see ANYONE in the air, that person will be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch'!"

And with that, she supported a shell-shocked Neville out of sight.

A few seconds after their departure, my brother burst out laughing.

"Did you see his face?" he said, an evil glint in his eyes. "The great lump!"

"Shut up, Malfoy," hissed a Gryffindor girl. I silently nodded, to show that I was thinking on exactly the same lines as her.

"Never though you'd like fat little cry babies, Parvati!" said Pansy, a lot more confident now that the prospect of flying was no longer looming.

As Parvati blushed, my brother bent down and picked something up, holding it up to the light.

"Look!"

I looked. It was a Rememberall.

"Give it here, Malfoy."

Harry stepped forward, his hand outstretched, his face set. My brother sneered.

I looked from one to the other in what could be only described as surprise. Had I really been so wrapped in my own little world that I had missed something? There was something more than Gryffindor-Slytherin hatred going on here. They _loathed_ eachother.

"Actually," said Draco, stepping towards his broom, "I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find. How about... Up a tree?"

Harry shouted, "Give it HERE!" but it was too late. My brother rose higher and higher, sneering at Harry mockingly, sneering at him just as he had sneered at me a thousand times.

Instinct kicked in. I grabbed the nearest broom and zoomed upwards, until I was level with him. He stared at me.

"Give it to me!" I yelled. Harry pulled up next to me, but I didn't even glance in his direction.

"Come and get it!" he called back. I rolled my eyes.

"If you insist."

Too late, he realized what he had said. I shot forward, and he careered to one side.

"Missed!" he jeered. All of a sudden, we were back at home, and this was just another one of our silly games, I made to grab the Rememberall, but he dodged again.

"Don't make me hurt you!" I shouted wildly. He laughed in my face.

"What could you possibly - HEY!"

Unseen by both of us, Harry had snuck up behind Draco and tried to knock the Rememberall out of his hand. Draco tossed it high into the air in surprise, and all three of us froze, and watched it rise in a wide arc.

Automatically, Draco, Harry and I made for it. Just for good measure, I knocked into Draco as we dived. Hard. He screamed and fell off his broom, hitting the ground a few feet below us. I swore loudly, put the Rememberall out of my mind, and touched down lightly beside him. He picked himself, checked himself over, then glared at me.

"Are you ACTUALLY stupid? You could have killed me!"

I sighed. Overreacting, as usual.

I heard several people scream, and whipped around, just in time to see Harry topple safely off his broom just before it hit the ground, the Rememberall clutched safely in his hand. I was about to start celebrating when -

"HARRY POTTER!"


	9. I Explain To Harry What The Problem Is

_**I explain to Harry what the problem is  
**_  
Harry was all right. He came to find me at dinner.

"Can I help you?" Nott asked him. All the Slytherins were kind of staring at him, including my brother, who had a strange expression on his face that didn't bode well.

"Er, yeah," said Harry awkwardly. "I sort of wanted to talk to Vespia... Alone..."

I sighed heavily. The only way he could've ensured that the whole of Slytherin house would be listening in on our conversation was to say that he wanted to talk to me 'alone'.

"Saying your last fond farewells, Potter?" said Draco with an evil glint in his eye. "Bidding goodbye to the wizarding world and going back to the Muggles?"

Pansy sniggered sycophantically.

"What's your problem?" I hissed at Draco. "Give Harry a break."

"Harry?" His eyes widened maliciously. "Harry? First name terms?"

I realized my mistake.

"Well, don't let us keep you from your new best friend," Draco said, exchanging glances with his little minions. I suddenly felt a little nervous.

"Um... Harry?" I said, turning to him. "There's nothing that you can say to me that you can't say to all of us."

"Oh, yeah," he said, catching on. "I mean, it's not that important, I just... Got picked to play Seeker for Gryffindor."

My brother's glass of pumpkin juice fell to the floor and smashed.

"What??"

"Oh, Harry, that's amazing," I said happily. "Well done!"

"You're on the team?" said Draco, as though he was unwilling to come to terms with this fact. "YOU'RE on the TEAM?"

"Yes, Draco," I said, using the voice I'd use to talk to a rather dim six year old. "That is what he said."

"That's not fair!" said Draco heatedly. "You were supposed to get expelled!"

"McGonagall thought I was a natural," said Harry with relish. "She recommended me to the captain."

I began to giggle at the expression on my brother's face. He glared at me. Then at Harry. Then at me again.

"I'm writing to father about this, Vespia," he said. "You're in BIG trouble."

My laugh caught in my throat.

"No, Draco, don't!"

He got up, pushing his plate aside, and strode out of the hall, with Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle scampering after him.

"Hard luck, Vespia," said Zabini as he passed me. And, to my disgust and Harry's amazement, he winked.

Nott got up and left too. He looked from me to Harry and from Harry to me and said nothing, but I knew that, whatever he was thinking, it didn't put me in a good light.

"Thanks a lot, Harry," I said bitterly. "Dad'll be REALLY mad at me for messing up the Malfoy family image."

Harry stared at me. "Yeah," he said slowly. "Maybe you'll get your allowance cut. Or maybe, if he's really mad, you could get grounded."

"You're not taking this seriously!"

"No, you're right, I don't think daddy's disapproval is the most important thing in the world."

"Oh, for the love of Merlin, Potter, you barely know me, what makes you think..." I put two and two together. "Weasley's been telling you all sorts of juicy lies about my family hasn't he?"

"So now I'm not even allowed to form my own opinions of people, everything's dictated to me by my friend? Your charming brother hardly knows ME yet he seems pretty happy to loathe me for all eternity."

My mouth fell open. "Is this what it's about? Draco? You think I'm like my brother?"

Harry back-pedalled quickly. "No... That's not what I said... Vespia..."

I looked down at the floor.

"Potter - Harry - I think it's best if we just... Be seen to... Stay away from each other... For a while..."

Harry nodded. "I get what you're saying." He cleared his throat. "So, I'll be seeing you around then, Malfoy."

I gave a weak smile. "Count on it, Potter."


	10. I Meet Hermione Granger In The Bathroom

_**I meet Hermione Granger in the girl's bathroom**_

_Draco (and Vespia),_

I confess, I am disappointed in you. Barely a week has gone by, and already you are having another petty argument, and the job falls to me to sort it out.

Draco, firstly, a word of advice. No doubt Harry Potter is perhaps not the best person to associate with, but be cautious. Do not forget how he is viewed by the majority of the wizarding world. The company he keeps is of course of strong relevance to how he will behave in future, but for the present I think it is best if you neither befriend him, nor make him your enemy.

Vespia, at least try to stay out of trouble. Remember who you are, and what being a Malfoy means. In associating himself with the likes of the Weasleys, Potter has shown us with whom he is likely to sympathize. I need not remind you what kind of relationship you should therefore have with him. I never wish to hear of anything more than civil, formal conversation, if that, being exchanged with you and Potter again.

I hope I have made myself perfectly clear.

Yours,

***

After dad's letter, I did exactly as I was told, for once, and up until Halloween I only spoke to Harry three times - once when I nearly knocked him over in the corridor (by accident I swear!) and the other two times in Potions, when I ran out of ink and when I needed to borrow some Giant Polynesian Rat spleen.

It wasn't until the Halloween feast that anything interesting happened. Theodore Nott, the only person in the whole of Slytherin house I could have a decent conversation with, had gone to bed early (he was rather anti-social), and after about ten minutes of loud chattering, I decided I'd had enough. Ducking low to avoid being seen by Snape, who might ask awkward questions, I sneaked out of the Hall and hurried quickly to the nearest girl's bathroom. I went in, shut the door behind me, leaned against a sink and heaved a sigh. In one of the cubicles, I heard someone gasp. I straightened up quickly.

"Hello?" I said suspiciously.

"Go away!"

I gently pushed on a cubicle door in front of me. It was locked.

"Who's in there?" I asked, pressing my ear to the door.

"Go away!" someone sniffled again.

I tiptoed round the side to an open cubicle, clambered up onto the toilet seat and poked my head over the top. I found myself looking into a pair of indignant brown eyes that widened in surprise when they recognised me.

"Malfoy? What are you doing here?"

I tried to lift myself a little higher to get a better look at her, but my foot slipped on the toilet seat, and I toppled backwards, landing with a loud crash.

The lock clicked and Hermione Granger came hurrying over in time to see me extract myself from a roll of toilet paper.

"What do you want?" she said sulkily on seeing that I was alright.

"I didn't come looking for you if that's what you mean," I said, rubbing my aching wrist. "I just wanted to get away from it all for a bit."

There was a long silence. Granger rubbed her red-rimmed eyes and sniffed again.

"Are you... Ok?" I asked tentatively.

"I'm fine!" she said fiercely. I nodded and looked away, a little embarrassed.

"Did you hear that?"

I looked at her. She had tensed up suddenly.

"Hear wh-"

"Shhhh!"

I listened hard, and I heard it. A sort of slow, shuffling sound, like someone dragging a giant slug across the stone floor.

We instinctively huddled together, head's bowed.

"What is it?" Granger whispered, terrified.

"I don't know," I whispered back.

The door behind us creaked open. We both stiffened, afraid to turn around. It slammed shut again.

The stench hit us first. It made us both gag simultaneously. Then we heard the harsh breathing, felt eyes boring into us. Very slowly we turned around to face whatever it was.

Granger screamed.


	11. I Lose 50 Points

_**I lose 50 points for saving the lives of three Gryffindors**_

"Move, move, move," said Granger hysterically, pushing me back towards a cubicle as the enormous mountain troll sniffed the air, casting its evil eyes around the bathroom.

"The door," I said weakly. "We need to get to the door!"

Even as I spoke, the door slammed shut behind the troll. We heard a lock click. Granger began to moan nervously.

The troll took a sudden lumbering step forward; Granger screamed again, even louder.

"Shut up," I hissed, hoping that by keeping silent the troll would fail to notice us, but it was too late. It raised it's gigantic club high above its head, poised to strike. Granger and I clung to each other, frozen in fear.

"Oy, pea-brain!" someone yelled. The troll faltered, staring around it, blinking stupidly.

Harry appeared from nowhere, pressing himself against the opposite wall, squinting at us.

"Run!" he yelled. "For God's sake, RUN!"

We just gaped at him. I tried to move my legs, but I had lost control of my whole body. We just stood there, shivering in fear. Harry, frustrated, looked for a way to help us, but suddenly the troll lurched forward again, and, obviously acting on impulse, he ran towards it and jumped. Granger found her voice and screamed, "No, Harry!"

The troll roared and thrashed about, unable to reach Harry with its club. Stumbling about waving its arms, I suddenly saw that it was about to hit Granger.

"No!" I yelled, knocking her out of the way. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Weasley standing uselessly in the corner. "Do something!" I screamed at him. He shook his head helplessly.

I struggled to my feet, leaving Granger on the floor. Pulling out my wand, I shouted the first spell that came into my head.

"_Wingardium Leviosa_!"

The troll's club zoomed out of its head and flew towards the ceiling. It hovered there for a split second before falling back to earth and landing with a loud crack on the troll's head. It seemed to fall in dramatic slow motion, finally hitting the floor with a loud thud that shook the whole bathroom.

Harry got up unsteadily, dusting himself off. He looked at me.

"Thanks," he murmured.

Weasley went quickly over to Granger and lifted her to her feet. She was still as white as a sheet and shaking uncontrollably. She looked at me too.

"Thanks," she said weakly.

I caught Harry's eye. I couldn't help it. I grinned.

"We just took out a mountain troll," I said incredulously, walking round it.

"Is it dead?" asked Hermione in a very small voice.

"I don't think so," said Harry, bending over it. "Just knocked out. But-"

He broke off as the door to the bathroom was flung open and Snape, McGonagall and Quirrel, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, came running in. Snape went straight to the troll, but McGonagall came over to us, her face livid. Quirrel hung back nervously.

"What on earth did you think you were doing?" she said icily, looking from Harry to Weasley to Granger. "Well? Explain yourselves!"

"It was my fault, Professor," I said quickly. Harry, Granger, Ron, McGonagall, Quirrel and Snape all looked at me.

"Miss Malfoy?" said McGonagall, pursing her lips. I thought fast.

"I thought it would be funny if Potter, Weasley and Granger were stuck in here with the troll, so I tried to lock them in as they went past," I said, trying to make my voice sound as much like my arrogant brother's as possible. "But the plan backfired and I ended up in here with them."

"Malfoy saved us from the troll in the end," Harry interjected. "Didn't she?"

Granger nodded emphatically.

Professor McGonagall's mouth opened and shut noiselessly. She straightened up furiously. "Well." She glanced sideways at Snape, who had stood up. "As nobody was hurt... And you did save their lives, apparently... 50 points from Slytherin, Miss Malfoy." Snape closed his eyes in exasperation. "Now, let's try and forget about this whole ordeal. You may all go."

We hurried out of the bathroom as fast as we could, and hurried down the corridor. At the end, I went one way and they went another. When we separated, Harry grinned at me gratefully. Granger whispered, "Thank you so much." Weasley opened his mouth to speak, closed it again, and hurried off after his friends. Smiling slightly at what my housemates would say when they found out about me losing 50 points because I tried to save some Gryffindors, I went down to the common room.


	12. I Gain A 'Mutual Acqaintance'

_**I gain a 'mutual acquaintance'**_

A few days after Halloween, the Slytherins and Gryffindors had a double Potions lesson together. I sat down at my solitary table in the corner, just as I did every lesson. Theodore Nott had once offered to sit next to me, but I had lied that I preferred to be alone.

"Hermione, what-"

"Harry, there's nowhere else."

"No, stop, look over-"

"Ron, we're sitting here and that's final!"

The thump of a bag on the table opposite me made me look up from my probably unsatisfactory potions homework with a start.

"There's nowhere else." said Granger with a strong air of disdain, but I caught her secretive wink. Harry slowly sat next to her, quickly arranging his face into an expression of disappointment at being forced to sit near me when he saw my brother cast a suspicious look at the pair of us. Weasley, however, remained standing. It became apparent that he wasn't prepared to play this game with his friends.

"There's a spare seat over there, Ronald, next to Seamus," said Hermione, her voice acquiring a layer of frostiness as she broke eye contact with him and began unpacking her things. Weasley looked set to move, but at that moment a low voice issued from the back of the classroom.

"Sit down, Weasley, or I shall have to mark you as late."

Weasley had no choice but to sit in the nearest available seat, next to Granger.

"Instructions are on the board," said Snape, still skulking at the back of the classroom. "I expect all of you have completed the homework from last lesson. If not..."

Across the classroom, a Gryffindor girl dissolved into tears. Snape regularly had that effect on people.

"Potter, Malfoy and Malfoy," said Snape, after the Gryffindor girl's friend had managed to stifle the noise of her sobbing. "I will mark your essays first. Bring them to me."

Harry and I looked at each other nervously. Draco, confident that Snape would show his customary favoritism, gathered up his essay and strode over to Snape. Resigned to my fate, I followed him with Harry trailing behind me.

Snape's quill moved over my brother's essay rapidly, occassionally making a large tick somewhere on the page.

"Excellent as usual, Draco," he said, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly as he handed the parchment back (which in Snape terms is like a dazzling smile). "Let's see if your sister has produced work of the same quality." With a sigh, I surrendered my homework.

For what seemed like hours, I stood in front of Snape while he scribbled all over my work, frowning. When he handed it back to me, it seemed like none of my original writing was left.

"Abysmal," he said to me. "Miss Malfoy, if you do not improve very fast, I shall have no choice but to write to your parents. You may go."

I turned and walked stiffly back to my place, half of me feeling ready to explode with anger and half wanting to give up Potions for ever and never take the stupid subject again.

"That bad?" Granger whispered as I threw myself down in my seat. I made an 'I'm dead' face.

Glancing over her shoulder to where Snape was bullying Harry, she leant towards me. "Just do what I do."

For the rest of the lesson, I carefully followed what Granger was doing, and Weasley and Harry appeared to be doing the same thing. In next to no time, I was finished, my potion a passable shade of turquoise like it was supposed to be. Snape swept over to me, seeing that I was sitting idly. He scrutinized what I'd done for a long time. Finally, finding nothing to sneer at, he moved over to where Longbottom was trying to tame his bubbling mud-coloured mixture.

From across the table, Granger grinned at me, and I smiled back.

"I owe you my life," I mouthed, as Snape signalled the end of the lesson. Just as Weasley, Granger and Harry left, Draco made his way over to me.

"Found some friends, then?" he said accusingly. "Some nice,_ Gryffindor_ friends?"

"Like I'd really make friends with a Weasley," I said (and there was an element of truth in that, because, although Harry was definitely a friend and Granger was probably heading that way as well, I got the feeling that Weasley didn't like me, and the feeling was pretty much mutual). "And you know I'd never dare go near Potter on purpose after what dad said."

His eyes narrowed. "And that buck-toothed know-it-all? She seemed pretty eager to get to know you."

"Just an... acquaintance," I said lamely. "And besides, I don't even know what you're talking about."

Draco snorted. "I always was a far better liar." Beckoning to his little gang, he left the dungeon.


	13. I Reluctantly Go Home For Christmas

_**I reluctantly go home for Christmas...**_

"I do feel sorry," Draco had said many times in the weeks leading up to the Christmas holidays, "for all those people staying at Hogwarts over Christmas because they're not wanted at home." He always looked meaningfully at Harry when he said this, making me want to punch him in the face. His hatred for Harry had seemingly intensified since the mid-November Slytherin vs. Gryffindor Quidditch match, in which Harry had proved to us all his dazzling talents as a Seeker by making a spectacular catch - with what many Slytherins referred to as 'inappropriate use of his mouth' - to win the match for Gryffindor.

I, however, wasn't sorry for all the people staying at Hogwarts. I envied them. Christmas in our house was not a happy family-gathering type event; it was a time when the manor filled with horrible relatives who made snide comments on mum's child-rearing techniques, dad's choice of wife, and other delicate matters that often ended up in mini-feuds between family members. And all of this happened whilst Draco got lots of presents and I was the subject of a sort of 'who can give the smallest present possible' competition. The previous year, the winner had been Grandmother Malfoy, who had given me a green marble (which actually proved quite useful for boring afternoons when all I had to do was open my window and try and hit one of the peacocks over the head with it to have some fun).

But really, it wasn't the relatives, or Draco's large presents, or even my small ones that made me dread going home that Christmas. Draco and I had not received a letter from dad since the one before Halloween, but, considering how many letters Draco had sent him (about me, I might add), this was not a good thing, but a very very bad thing.

Dad said nothing to me when Draco and I met him on the platform with mum, and this made my sense of foreboding build rather than ebb. If he was going to wait until we were in private, he had a serious problem with whatever that dirty little sneak (Draco) had told him.

We apparated back to the manor (home sweet home, I don't think) and we had not even got through the door before dad turned to me and said, "Come, Vespia." Draco looked happier than I'd ever seen him look since he thought he'd got Harry expelled. He smirked knowingly at me, and I stuck out my tongue in return, much to mum's displeasure.

It took what seemed like an age to reach dad's study. He opened the door and gestured me stonily inside; anxiety was now beginning to take hold of my whole body. The last time I'd been in dad's study was when I had stolen mum's wand while she was asleep and set fire to my bed.

"Sit," he said coldly. I sat. "Explain why you think you are here."

I knew exactly why I was there, but I wasn't about to tell him that.

"I have absolutely no idea." His eyes narrowed slightly. "Father," I added, using my customary sarcasm. His eyes narrowed even more.

"No idea? No idea at all?"

I pretended to think hard.

"Is this about the time I spilt pumpkin juice over Draco?" I asked with feigned innocence. "Because that was a complete accident, and it only happened once. Or twice..."

"Or six times," he finished for me. "But that is irrelevant. This has nothing to do with pumpkin juice, or Draco."

"Oh." I pretended to think hard again.

"Don't play games with me, Vespia," he snapped. "I am neither in the mood, nor do I have the time. This is about Harry Potter."

My worst fears confirmed, I tried to hide the guilt on my face with a casual shrug. "Oh. Him. What about him?"

Dad's eyes were now so narrowed I had no idea how he could see anything at all. He snatched up a piece of parchment from his desk and waved it in my face. I briefly registered Draco's loopy handwriting before it was whipped away from me.

"You deliberately disobeyed my instructions," he hissed. I slumped low in my seat, resigned to my fate. "I asked you to do one thing, and one thing only, and that was to stay away from Potter, but you couldn't even do that." His eyes scanned the parchment quickly. "And a Mudblood and a Weasley too. Vespia, how could you?"

"Besmirching the family name!" screeched a portrait hanging high up on the wall. "The highest crime! A disgrace to us all!" There was a pause. "Besmirching the family name!" it repeated.

I longed desperately to tell the occupant exactly where they could stick their precious family name, but I thought it unwise to get myself in any more trouble than I was already in. I often engaged in shouting matches with various portraits around the house, and these arguments never ended well for me.

"Perhaps you could explain your motive for associating with... _these people_."

I glared at him, irked by his use of 'these people'. I considered trying to explain to him very slowly about these things that some people have called _friends_, but as I was imagining his fury if I tried, I saw I tiny glimmer of hope. My one chance.

"There's been a misunderstanding, father," I said, trying to downplay the sarcasm. "Though it's comforting to know that my charade fooled even you." It was amazing how much I could sound like my brother when I wanted to. "You see, I was merely following your own advice. 'Keep your friends close but your enemies closer'" I quoted confidently. It was a saying he was particularly fond of. "I believe that Potter could be useful to have on our side."

It seemed impossible, but he looked like he might just believe me. "And the Mudblood? The Weasley?"

"Part of the deal I'm afraid," I drawled, mirroring Draco's tone perfectly. "Potter never goes anywhere without them. They're tolerable."

There was a long silence; my heart was pumping fast as I waited for dad to tell me to stop lying, and punish me accordingly for what I had done.

"Very well," he said finally, pursing his lips. "You may go."

I resisted the urge to sigh with relief, and concentrated on standing up and walking calmly to the door.

"Oh, and Vespia?"

I flinched at the sound of my name and turned slowly to face him again. "Yes, father?"

He smirked at me. "I suggest you practise your Potions over this holiday. I will not have my daughter failing a class of Severus Snape's."

I couldn't help but grimace, which caused his smirk to widen. I hurried to the door and positively ran to the sanctuary of my room. Only once I was safely locked in could I breathe normally again, and marvel at my own incredible luck. Grinning as the full realization of what this meant hit me, I sat down at my desk to compose a letter to Harry.


	14. I Am Forced To Put Up With Grandmother

_**I am forced to put up with Grandmother Malfoy...**_

There is only one thing worse than Draco's voice being the first thing you hear in the morning, and that's Draco's voice delivering bad news being the first thing you hear in the morning.

"Sound the fanfare," said a sarcastic voice in my ear that I wasn't entirely sure was in my dream or not. "Be prepared to do a lot of bowing and subservient scraping because Grandmother Malfoy has arrived."

I had woken up enough to know that I wasn't dreaming, but after hearing what Draco had to say, I wished I was. I groaned and buried my face in my pillow.

"Oh no you don't." My covers were pulled back, and I was suddenly very cold. "We are going to suffer through this together."

If there was ever one thing Draco and I agreed on, it was that Grandmother Malfoy was the root of all evil.

I got up and got dressed as slow as was humanly possible before meeting Draco outside my room. The pair of us trooped downstairs at the speed of a dead snail, and finally found ourselves waiting outside Grandmother Malfoy's parlor (a room in the house set aside especially for her).

"Ready?" Draco asked, poised to knock.

"No." He knocked anyway.

"Enter!" came the shrill, female voice from within. I though she sounded a bit like a mythical harpy myself. With one last deep breath, the pair of us stepped inside her lair.

Grandmother Malfoy waved us regally over to her chair when we entered, not even bothering to turn and look at us. She was wearing a horrible lavender dress that hung off her wiry frame, and her perfume was so strong that I thought it was going to knock me out.

"Draco," she said sniffily as she allowed him to kiss her hand, missing his grimace. Her cold grey eyes turned to me. "Vespia," she snapped. "You've grown." She sounded like it was some kind of crime. "And what on earth have you done to your hair?" My hand flew to my slightly messy blond hair, feeling where it stuck out all over the place. "In fact," she continued, glaring at the pair of us, "let me look at the both of you. Come on, hurry up, let me look at you!"

We stood in front of her for inspection; it was a regular thing. Every time she came to stay, she would criticise both of us and blame it all on mum's inability to look after children.

"You're both far too thin," she said finally, looking us up and down. "I suspect Miss Black has not been feeding you sufficiently."

She always called mum 'Miss Black'. I think it was a way for her to show her contempt without annoying dad too much.

"If you please, Grandmother," Draco began tentatively. "We haven't been at home these past few months, so it couldn't possibly be mother's -"

"Ah yes," Grandmother interrupted, her nostrils flaring. "Hogwarts, am I correct?" We both nodded. "A pathetic excuse for a school. I don't know what came over my son when he sent you there."

"Perhaps," I said, disregarding her rather dangerous expression, "it's because he went there himself. I wonder what came over you when you sent him there."

Maybe it was because I was tired. Maybe it was because I was still annoyed at Draco for everything he'd done at Hogwarts. I don't know. The point is, I had broken the first three cardinal rules concerning Grandmother Malfoy: Don't answer back, Don't insult her decisions and Don't imply that she's wrong.

"How dare you!" she hissed, her eyes narrowing. "How dare you criticise me, you ungrateful little wretch!" I tried to tune out, but it was somewhat hard when what she said next brought me back to earth with a bang. "Don't think your father hasn't told me about your dealings at Hogwarts, girl! You are a disgrace to the name of Malfoy! Associating with Mudbloods and blood traitors. I'm surprised that my son doesn't disown you on the spot!"

I was seething. I was quite literally shaking with rage. Draco took a step back from me nervously.

"Great," I said with a kind of forced calm. "I hope he does. That way I can make friends with the people I want to, instead of worrying about the _precious Malfoy name_ all the time! Now, if you'll excuse me, _Grandmother_," I said sarcastically, "but I have better things to do with my time than be here." I turned on my heel and marched to the door.

"Don't you turn your back on me girl!" she screeched. "I'm not finished with you! Don't even think abut walking out of that -"

I shut the door behind me, cutting her off in mid shriek. I slumped against the opposite wall, thinking over what I'd said. I shouldn't have got so angry; she'd basically said exactly what dad had said but with a bit more venom. But it was something in the way she said 'Mudblood' that I didn't like. I felt very protective of Granger all of a sudden, just because I knew she would come under fire sooner or later.

I looked back at the door behind which Grandmother Malfoy was probably terrorizing Draco and sighed. It was going to be a long holiday.

***

A/N: For anyone under the impression that I am writing at the speed of light, sorry to disappoint but I am just copying existing chapters from another website I write for. From now on, the updates will come as much as a month apart. Any reviews are gratefully read and appreciated.

Ellie

xxx


	15. I receive an unexpected Christmas Card

_**I receive a very unexpected Christmas card at the worst possible time...**_

"All right, children, you may open your presents now."

Draco, acting a little too much like a 5 year old for my liking, practically ran over to the 12 foot Christmas tree and began circling it, trying to make up his mind which of his large, expensive looking parcels to open first. In contrast, I ambled over and quickly selected a nondescript parcel.

"Thank you, Uncle Herbert!" I said as sincerely as I could. "I've always wanted an extra ink pot." Uncle Herbert, who isn't really my uncle but my great-great uncle, nodded stiffly, and I put the useless gift to one side. Draco was busy ripping the wrapping paper of what looked like a set of personalised stationary - also from Uncle Herbert - and I noted bitterly that the old codger could have at least had my name engraved on the ink pot or something. Sighing, I moved onto my next present.

"Thank you, Cousin Malicia. I love embroidery." I held the needle up to the light, silently congratulating her on managing to find something smaller than Grandmother Malfoy's marble to give me.

"My husband got you some thread, if you'd care to look," said Malicia coolly. Not too enthusiastically, I picked up the package with the same wrapping paper, and discovered that it was indeed a small quantity of green thread. How thoughtful.

Draco had now opened a sterling silver, diamond encrusted chess set (I mean really, who wants something like that?) and had moved on to his fourth package, without so much as the barest hint of gratitude towards whoever had got it for him. Allegedly, that is acceptable if you're male. If you're me, however, you have to be polite every bloody second, and always say thank you even when you couldn't mean it any less if the people in question had just kicked you in the head with a steel-toed boot and been on their way.

The rest of the present-opening ceremony continued in a similar fashion - I received a silk pillow case, a pair of knitting needles, a book on etiquette and decorum, another marble (original, Grandmother, very original), a scarf, a pair of shoes from mum (they were actually quite nice. I was surprised), nothing from dad, and a new quill from Draco that looked suspiciously like the quill I had given him for his last birthday. It was nothing less than I expected, really.

"Is that all of them?" dad asked, glancing under the tree, where there was now only a few shreds of wrapping paper. With impeccable timing, a large snowy owl swooped into the room and dropped a single envelope on my lap. It settled itself on the branches of the tree and looked expectantly at me.

"I don't recognise that owl," dad said, as though it were an accusation.

"Let me see that card, Vespia." I handed it over to mum without complaint - she always checked through our Christmas and birthday cards. Every year without fail, there would be one set that she would burn without letting us see - Draco used to spend ages trying to work out who they were from. We stopped caring a while ago though. It just became the normal routine. After about a minute, when I still hadn't got it back from her, I cleared my throat.

"Is it from..?" dad asked, going over to her and reading it over her shoulder. Then he, too, just stared at it in shock.

"What is it?"

"Who's it from?"

"Let me see, mother."

"Let ME see, Miss Back."

Pretty soon, the entire family was crowded around mum, trying to get a glimpse of MY card. I cleared my throat yet again.

"If you're not going to burn it, mother, may I have it back?" Everyone glared at me. "Well, its my card." There was still no sign that I had any chance of getting it back, so I elbowed my way through everyone until I had a good view of the handwritten message inside.

_Dear Vespia_

_Merry Christmas! I got your card and present; I don't mind at all that it's your old chess set. In fact, it's great! You must be great at chess, because I can now beat Ron from time to time, and that's saying something, and it's all because the pieces are so helpful._

_I'm sorry I couldn't get you a present. Hermione said she'd get something for you from the both of us and you can have it when you get back, so that's something to look forward too. Anyway, I think I'd better stop writing now - there's not much room left on this card. I hope Hedwig finds you all right - you might want to give her a little food for her trouble, or else she'll never speak to you ever again._

_Harry_

I realised that everyone was staring at me. "Ah."

"You gave him your old chess set?" dad said, so angrily that it sounded like he was Minister for Magic I had given a muggle a wand.

"I thought it would be all right," I argued. "I have to be convincing."

Grandmother Malfoy then felt the need to draw attention to herself. "Disgraceful! Lucius, what are you going to do about this? The girl is out of control!"

"It's a bloody Christmas card!" I said heatedly. "How the hell can you conclude that I'm out of control because I got a Christmas card?"

Every female in the room looked like the were about to faint.

"How dare you!" Grandmother screeched. "Such filthy language!" She pulled out her wand. "Scourgify!"

I would have given her some REALLY filthy language right then an there, but I was too busy choking on soap bubbles. As I coughed up yet more suds, I could see Draco trying to stop himself from laughing.

"Of course, I blame you, Miss Black," Grandmother continued as I kept on retching.

"Me??"

"Mother..."

"Lucius, somebody has to say it. Yes, Miss Black, I am talking to you. I blame you for the way your daughter has turned out. Your son is a slight disappointment to, but that's not the issue here." That shut Draco up. "You have quite frankly been an appalling mother to my grandchildren, but I can't say I'm surprised. The Blacks were once a respectable family, but at the rate they're going they'll be nothing but a bunch of blood traitors and lunatics. I made it quite clear to my son that you were not to my taste, and you have done nothing to convince me to like you ever since you married into this family to salvage the Black name."

There was a long, shocked silence. Even I held back my coughing. To an outsider, it would appear that the only tension was between Grandmother and mum, but any pureblood could pick up the way that half of the room was now glaring at the other half, the explanation being that half of the room was related to mum, and the other half to dad, which instantly divided them into two camps in the debate.

Dad was the first to break the silence. "Mother, if I might jog your memory, when I proposed to Narcissa you objected not to the family, but to her. You, if I recall the moment correctly, wished me to reconsider and to marry Bellatrix instead."

Mum gave a slightly harsh laugh. "Oh yes, that would have ended fabulously for your son, Mrs Malfoy. Allow me to congratulate you on your taste!"

It's a common misconception that twins have a mysterious psychic connection. In truth, what happens is that you feel a certain way, and you know your twin so well that you can guess if they feel the same way or not. At that moment I was thinking _GET OUT OF THERE BEFORE THE NUCLEAR EXPLOSION OF YELLING _and a quick glance at Draco told me that he was feeling the same. Our eyes met, and he inclined his head towards the door. I nodded once and began to sidle away from where Grandmother and mum were engaged in a very fierce staring contest, with each of them getting steadily redder in the face. As soon as I was on the edge of the family group, I made a break for the door.

"I stand by what I said, Miss Black. At least your sister had brains AND a pretty face, somewhat a rarity in the Black family I believe."

The gasp of outrage from all of mum's relations coincided exactly with the moment when Draco and I yanked open the door and scampered outside. Not until were halfway up the second flight of stairs could we breath a sigh of relief.

"That," said Draco, "was close."

I nodded, a little short of breath. "Didn't they have the exact same argument last year?"

Draco rolled his eyes. They have the same argument EVERY year. You'd think Grandmother gets a sort of sadistic pleasure from stirring up trouble like that."

"Of course she does." I slowed down the pace a little as we neared my bedroom. "Merlin, I can't wait to get back to school."


	16. I Research The Mysterious Mr Flamel

_**I research the mysterious Mr Flamel as best I can…**_

I was sitting, in the freezing cold, on a bench outside the castle doors, pouring over a book on Charms that Professor Flitwick had told me to get out of the library. I hate to say it, but I was becoming a rather smug student in Charms. Professor Flitwick had taken quite a shine for me – much to Draco's annoyance. Obviously, _he _was allowed to be Snape's pet student, but the minute Professor Flitwick gave me some extra reading to do he started sulking. I turned a page in the ancient book, fumbling slightly as my hand was encased in a very thick woolen mitten.

"Vespia!"

Trudging through the chilling mist – a beacon of flaming red Quidditch robes – was Harry. I shut my book, glad for a chance to talk to him away from the accusing eyes of my fellow Slytherins, and, as he drew near, patted the bench beside me. He collapsed onto it, dropping his broomstick carelessly on the floor, and sighing heavily.

"Tough practice?" He shrugged.

"No tougher than usual, but we've had some bad news."

I nodded. "Snape's refereeing the next match, isn't he?" Draco had been crowing about it ever since he'd heard; it was something that puzzled me greatly. "He's never seemed like much of a flier to me, you know." Harry gave me a dark look, that was clearly meant to mean something, but just made me notice how very bright green his eyes were.

"Can I ask you something?" he asked suddenly. "Do you know who Nicolas Flamel is?"

It was a bit of a random question, but I brushed it off as a homework-related question or something of the sort. I wracked my brains, but came up blank.

"It rings a bell…" I said slowly. "But I'm afraid I don't. Why don't you ask Hermione?"

Harry just sighed and turned away from me to pick up his broom. It seemed like this Nicolas Flamel really was important. "I could always ask Theodore," I offered, as he was about to go. "He might know."

"If he does, it'll be a miracle," Harry said, pulling his robes a little tighter to keep warm. "But worth a try. Thanks Vespia." With that, he tramped up the stone steps of the castle and disappeared inside."

***

"You haven't seen Theodore, have you, Draco?" I'd scoured the library, looked in every corner of the common room, and even checked most of the dungeon classrooms, but he seemed to be nowhere.

"You mean, Nott?" Draco asked lazily, pushing one of his sterling silver chess pieces forwards, causing Zabini, playing against him, to swear under his breath. "He's not here."

"I _know _that. But where is he?"

"How should I know – no, Blaise, I've pinned that with this rook, you can't move it – do you think I keep track of his every move?"

"I know where he is," said Zabini irritably, but that might just have been because he was losing badly. "He went running after that Davis girl. She'd been crying."

"Didn't I have something to do with that?" Draco said casually, watching his queen smash up Zabini's knight.

"Yes, I expect you did," I snapped. Tracey Davis, as Draco had pointed out so many times, was a half blood. If she had run off in tears again, it was probably something to do with some kind of hurtful taunt on Draco's part.

"Anyway, why were you wondering in the first place?" Draco moved his knight forwards, and added to Zabini, "That's check."

"I wanted to ask him about something, that's all…"

"And what might that be?" Draco asked, his knight now pouncing on Zabini's rook.

"Oh, I just need some help with History of Magic, that's all." I paused for a moment, watching Draco's bishop do battle with a particularly plucky pawn. "Do you know where they went?"

"Nope." Draco moved his queen in for the kill. "And that's checkmate, Blaise," he said with a triumphant flourish.

"There they are now," Zabini growled. "And I want a rematch. I'm sure you cheated."

Entertaining as their chess playing was, I had more important things on my mind. Davis and Theodore had indeed slipped into a corner of the common room together. I made my way over to them cautiously; I could see Davis' red-rimmed eyes from a mile off.

"Hi," I said to break the ice as I sat down. I wholeheartedly understood that I might not be the first person Davis wanted to see right then, but it was worth a try.

"Malfoy, can you tell your brother that he…"

I sort of tuned out for a bit. Needless to say, there was quite a bit of swearing in her little rant. When she'd finished, I patted her arm sympathetically, trying to convey the fact that I agreed with every single name she'd called Draco (apart from possibly the one involving Merlin's… ahem, anyway, I agreed with most of them). Then, moving on as fast as possible without being totally offensive, I turned to Theodore. "Um, Theodore, you're quite clever, aren't you?"

"Well, if I was as arrogant and big-headed as some people, I might say yes."

He was obviously in one of his very 'hostile' moods, so I hurried along as quickly as possible. "So would you be able to tell me who Nicolas Flamel is?"

He ceased glaring at the far wall, and glared witheringly at me instead. "Doesn't everybody?"

"No," I said bluntly. "Who is he? What did he do?"

"He's an Alchemist," Theodore said in a very slow, very patronizing voice. "He owns the only currently existing Philosopher's Stone."

"Really?" I said incredulously. "How old is he?"

"Six hundred and sixty five, I think," said Theodore, starting to get into the swing of his little explanation. "He –"

He was cut off by two simultaneous cries, one of triumph and one of frustration. I saw Tracey Davis' fists clench as Draco celebrated yet another victory over Zabini.

"Hey, Vespia!" he called over to me.

"What?" I said in a tone that clearly conveyed my message of 'I am busy doing more important things than talking to you.'

"Have you done that Transfiguration essay yet?"

My response to his question, had Grandmother Malfoy been there, would have earned me another mouth full of soap. Draco smirked. "I thought not. Come on, come to the library with me and do it now."

I quickly weighed up my options. If I went with Draco now, I'd miss out on talking to Theodore, and finding out about Mr Flamel for Harry. If I didn't go however… Well, after that fiasco with the homicidal needles, I wasn't exactly McGonagall's favourite student.

"I'll talk to you later," I said reluctantly to Theodore, who had now resumed his previous stance of drilling holes in the grey, stone wall with his eyes.

On our way up to the library, Draco, prompted by me, gave an account of what had happened with Davis that couldn't have been more false if I'd been listening to You-Know-Who himself talking about his nice little Christmas Party with all the little Muggle children, and how they'd started all the fighting an not him, and he had been murdering them in self-defense…

We turned a corner just outside the library, and I almost walked slap bang into someone.

"Oh, er, sorry," I said, trying to set the boy right again. I recognized him immediately as Gryffindor Neville Longbottom, the only person in the school who was worse at Potions than I was. Looking from Draco to me like a deer caught in the headlights, he tried to stammer something, but was silenced by a smirk from Draco.

"Why don't you go and get us a table in the library, Vespia?" Draco said. "I've just remembered some other homework I have to do… Just some practical stuff for Defense Against the Dark Arts. I think Longbottom here can help me."

He whipped out his wand and, before I could stop him, Longbottom had toppled over with a cry, his legs stuck tightly together.

"Draco!" I made a move towards Longbottom, my own wand in my hand now. "Here, let me help…"

But, with a nervous squeak, Longbottom struggled to his feet and hopped away, terrified.

"Call yourself a Gryffindor?" Draco called after him. "That's just pathetic, Longbottom. Coward."

"Will you just shut up," I said angrily, turning on him. "What did you do that for anyway?"

"I needed someone to practice –"

"You can't just _jinx_ people when you feel like it, and you certainly can't call them pathetic!"

"Who died and made you Minister?"

"Oh, grow up, Draco, you always–"

"_I'm _the one who needs to grow up am I? You –"

We were silenced rather effectively by Madam Pince, who came flying out of the library like a bat out of hell, screeching (at roughly the same volume as we had been shouting) at us to keep the noise down. Still seething, I stomped inside the library and chose a table at the farthest possible corner from the one that Draco sat down at. Rather aggressively, I pulled a Transfigurationy-looking off a nearby shelf and slammed it onto the table, earning a dark glare from the still irritable Madam Pince. I managed to dredge up a quill and some parchment from the bottom of my bag, and I soon set pen to paper. The ridiculous impossibility of the essay calmed me down a little, and by the time I had finished the second paragraph, I was almost hoping that Draco would come over and sit with me. Two heads are better than one after all.


End file.
